


the in-between

by nightwanderess



Category: gen:LOCK (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Miranda girl I love you but this isn't healthy, Moving On, Some hurt/comfort, Spoilers for the first episode?, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, What happens during the four years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwanderess/pseuds/nightwanderess
Summary: Four years is a long time to grieve, mourn, and (try) to move forward.





	the in-between

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd but edited, but i do apologize if there are any mistakes. also i made up leon's call sign because i don't think it was stated in the show yet.
> 
> edit: i accidentally left it so you had to be approved to write comments, but that's fixed now. sorry about that!

**_2068._ **

As she steps out of her strider into the all-too-quiet hangar, her world crumbles beneath her.

Someone’s calling for her, she registers. It’s Leon or Jodie or Migas or another strider pilot but she doesn’t bother to turn around. Everything’s a blur: her mind is racing as she finally makes her way towards her room and slams the door shut. She’s alone, something she craved as soon as she made her way out of the strider. At the same time…

_He’s gone he’s gone he’s gone he can’t be gone this isn’t happening this isn’t happening this isn’t REAL_

The tears stream down her face as the past hour plays over and over in her head. The Silver Falcons squadron being completely wiped out, _Chase, what are you doing?,_ “Love you baby, see you as soon as I can,” the EMP, the crash. It’s too much.

She doesn’t even know how she ended up sitting on her bed, slightly rocking back and forth in the fetal position as the sobs wrack her body. There’s a debriefing going on somewhere, she suspects. Col. Marin will try to reassure those attending, say they did their best, they did everything they could, maybe even a moment of silence for those they lost. Everyone they lost – she doesn’t know the numbers, but it’s much worse than anything they’ve ever encountered.

She doesn’t care. He’s gone. Chase sacrificed himself, his plane falling through the sky before exploding right in front of her eyes. She saw his last moments – his last horrific, gruesome moments – and he didn’t even get to see her. There wasn’t even a goodbye.

She tries to convince herself that this is a dream as she tries and fails to wipe the tears from her eyes. Tomorrow she’ll wake up, have breakfast with Chase, train with Chase, watch a movie with Chase. This has to be a nightmare. It can’t be real.

A knock on her door brings her back to reality. She doesn’t want to answer until she hears a quiet “Miranda, it’s me,” from the other side. Migas. She’s at her feet immediately and presses the button to open the door.

He looks like a wreck. It’s been only an hour since he heard the news, but it looks like he’s been carrying his grief with him for months. His red-rimmed and puffy eyes must mirror her own as they two look at each other, words escaping them for the moment.

Migas steps into the room, the door slowly closing shut behind him. His shoulders sag and he averts his eyes – he must have been trying to keep a brave face as he made his way over here. He sighs. “Miranda, I – I…”

She wraps her arms around him and brings him in for a tight hug. “Migas, please tell me this isn’t real, please tell me this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening,” she cries into his shoulder, surely staining his shirt.

He doesn’t respond.

 

There’s a memorial ceremony happening the next day. She doesn’t want to go. Sleep escaped her last night, with the memories and the _I’m buying all of you time_ replaying in her head constantly. She hasn’t cried in an hour, which she considers an accomplishment, but she knows she’ll cry if she attends.

“Please, Miranda, I won’t make you stay the entire time. Leon and Jodie are worried about you,” Migas says. With her arms crossed, she looks back at him. She wants to stay and try to sleep, but she knows she’ll inevitably dream of Chase. “Okay,” she replies.

It’s actually kind of nice, despite the situation. Leon gives her a hug and wordlessly hands her a candle for the vigil. Jodie puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her he’s sorry, and if the dark circles under his eyes mean anything, he hasn’t been taking it well, either. The three of them along with Migas stand in silence as they wait for the ceremony to begin.

Col. Marin has a short speech about everyone’s bravery the day prior, how they fought valiantly and did not die in vain. The colonel lists off everyone’s names that were killed or are missing in action – when she reaches Chase’s, Miranda’s breath hitches. She feels Leon’s hand on her shoulder as a tear rolls down her cheek, but she manages to compose herself as the list only grows longer.

When taps starts to play, she takes the time to look around. It seems that the entire base came, each person holding their own candle and looking grim. People with their arms around each other, some openly crying, some clearly trying to hold it together. In her solitude over the past day, it felt like she was the only one who’s world caved in around her. That losing Chase wrecked her the most. But seeing everyone – including Razzle’s husband, who she had just married – makes her feel a little less alone. It almost comforts her.

The ceremony ends and Miranda slips out of the crowd, already intent on making her way back to her room. She knows that her squad are concerned about her, but she can’t bring herself to open up. She just wants to be alone.

As she makes her way through the hallways, she spots some maintenance people putting up new plaques on the memorial wall.

She doesn’t look.

 

A few days pass before she throws herself back into training. She gets up early to work out, to practice hand-to-hand combat, to work with her strider. She needs a new routine. She can’t live like this.

Leon and Jodie share worried glances, she knows, as they find that she’s the first to start training, day-in and day-out. “There’s counselors on site, Ms. Worth,” Col. Marin reminds her one day, an uneasy look in her eyes. She simply nods and goes back to practicing her hand-to-hand.

Deep down, she’s well-aware this isn’t healthy. There are better ways to get out her feelings other than bottling them up and pushing herself too much. A counselor would help her sort out her grief. Chase wouldn’t like any of this.

But Chase is gone. Sitting by herself or sitting with a counselor and going through his last moments sounds exhausting. She already dreams of his last moments, her helplessness as she watches his plane fall over and over and over. It’s all she can see when she goes to sleep.

So she pushes herself to her limits when it comes to her training. The sweating and the aches remind her that this is a war now, and they need to win. There’s no going back – too many sacrifices were made during the Battle of New York to turn back. She moves forward in her own way.

She doesn’t want to accept the fact that he’s really gone, too.

 

**_2069._ **

Months later, mornings still aren’t easy.

It’s gotten better, she’ll admit. The nightmares don’t come as often. Some nights she can even get a few hours of sleep and not feel like she got hit by a train as she gets up to work out. Her friends look better, too. Leon looks more confident in himself. Jodie starts to joke around again. Migas invites everyone to play Siege.  

She doesn’t shut herself away as much, either. Sure, she still won’t open up to her friends about her feelings, but she’s willing to hang out with them occasionally. Maybe she’ll sit down and play some Siege. Maybe she’ll laugh at one of Jodie’s lame jokes. Maybe she’ll come up with some new offensive plans with Leon.

But mornings…mornings, for a few brief moments, are where she can forget that he’s gone.

Some days she wakes up and expects him to be there. Of course, it was technically against protocol to sleep together with a significant other unless you were married. No one followed that, and if you didn’t make it obvious or make a giant fuss, security would turn a blind eye.

He liked to spend time at her room the most. “Your roommates are way less loud than mine,” he would joke. She suspected that he liked her room more because hers was closer to the kitchen, but she never brought it up. He probably wouldn’t have denied it.

When he would stay over, she’d often wake up to an arm wrapped around her waist with his face buried in her shoulder or neck. He snored quietly – she found it cute, but if it was any louder, she probably would have hated it. She was almost always the first one to wake, often trying to wiggle her way out of his grip.

 _Chase, come on, we should get up_ , she would say. He’d groan and press a kiss into her shoulder. “You get up this early every day? Seriously?” he’d groggily reply as he tightened his grip on her. Sometimes she’d give in and stay in bed for a few minutes, but most times she’d hit him over the head with a pillow and giggle. _Come on, Romeo, we really need to get up_. He’d always – reluctantly – get up after that, usually with a smile on his face.

Mornings are reminiscent of the past. For a few brief seconds, she’ll think that she can still feel his arms around her, still feel his nose press into her shoulder, still expect him to follow her out towards the dining area. For those few, precious seconds, she can forget that he died all those months ago. That the war isn’t happening. That they’re not losing more people every mission.

Reality sets in soon after, and although her roommates’ soft breathing reminds her that she’s not there by herself, she feels alone.

 

The missions don’t get easier after Chase’s – after all the people they lost in New York – death.

She, maybe naively, thought that there could have been a silver lining coming out of New York. People would be inspired to fight harder. The colonel and all her personnel would come up with ways to fight. They could take down the Union and take down the thing that took Chase away from her.

The truth is, the Polity is overwhelmed. The Union’s forces seem to grow at an almost impossible rate, and their technology only gets more and more complex as the year goes on. The Vanguard has some small victories here and there, but it feels like the Union is five steps ahead of the them.

She moves forward. It’s exhausting, the tiredness deep in her bones as she pushes herself to and beyond her limits. People are counting on her, on the Vanguard, on the Polity. It would be a disservice to everyone if she just laid down and gave up.

One mission gets to her, though. They’re trying to hold down a small city somewhere in the northeast, but once again they’re overwhelmed. The Union hammers them with everything they’ve got, tearing apart striders and striking down jets as if it’s easy, as if this is just some game that they’re winning. She’s already lost contact with several people, but Leon and Jodie are still fighting. She fires off missiles, takes down an incoming spider tank, and moves around a corner.

It’s chaos in the streets. People are running for their lives, cowering behind walls and practically throwing themselves insides buildings. There are bodies in the streets with the remnants of the nanotech still lingering. She tries to move forward, but soldiers fire at her from several directions. They're surrounded.

A group huddling behind some fallen debris catches her eye. The debris makes it so that they’re out of sight from the Union soldiers, so nobody is firing at them. A child sees her strider and stares at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. There’s pain in the girl’s eyes – she can’t more than eight or nine years old. _Save me_ , her expression says loud and clear. _Help me_.

The call to fall back comes in. In that moment, she understands Chase’s decision. These people, this child, are counting on her to save from the Union. She’s almost ready to give herself up and fight for this city, but she doesn’t. She forces herself to watch the young girl’s face as she begins to back away. The terror in her expression will never leave her mind. As soon as the strider is back on the plane, she buries her head in her hands.

 _This can’t be for nothing_ , she thinks. _His death can’t be for nothing_.

 

The one-year anniversary of Chase’s death comes, and she tries not to think about it.

It’s a normal day for her, or she tries to make it normal. There’s work that needs to be done: she has to look over notes for an upcoming mission, work on training with some new recruits, find time to sit down and eat. The day passes by almost uneventfully, with only a few fleeting thoughts of him and a few remembrances of “Love you baby, see you as soon as I can”. It’s when she’s trying to find Migas to ask about a repair to her strider when it really hits her.

She finds him standing outside, looking away from her at…something. She doesn’t know what, but she’s annoyed, considering she’s been trying to find him for the past twenty minutes. “Migas, what the hell are you doing out here? We’ve got to figure out how to fix my—” she says before she stops.

The view in front of them is breathtaking. The sun is only beginning to set, and these mesmerizing colors fill up the sky. Oranges, pinks, purples, reds – it looks like a water-color painter started making their newest masterpiece, and the sky was their canvas.

“Chase loved sunsets like these,” Migas says abruptly as he puts a hand on his hip. “He’d be in the middle of something important and then just suddenly come out here and take a billion photos on his phone.

I’d always say ‘dude, you’re never gonna look at those. Why take so many?’ Seriously, Miranda, he took like a thousand,” he chuckled, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him. “But he’d just shrug and say that maybe he’d become a world-famous painter after all this ends and use these photos for reference. He’d show up at my door, fifty years old, throw a painting in my face and say ‘Told you so, amigo. I told you so.’”

She expects him to continue, but he looks down, his face suddenly solemn and serious. She shifts on her feet a little before sighing. “I caught him out here once taking some photos, too. He said…he said they were for Dri. He said he was going to send them to her in one big file as a birthday present later. She’d love it, he said. She…she…”

She really, really didn’t want to cry, but the tears suddenly start flowing. She can’t remember the last time she cried this hard. Migas’s arm is immediately around her shoulder, bringing her in for a side-hug.

“He should still be here,” she manages to get out. “It’s not fair.”

 

**_2070._ **

The memorial wall gets larger and larger by the month.

For the longest time, she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. It felt like she was looking at her own failure – at everyone’s failures. The war still raged on, and it felt like their deaths meant nothing. The Union was getting stronger by the day, and they were losing more and more personnel to them. Some killed in action, some…she doesn’t even want to think of what the Union puts them through.

When the wall was smaller, she knew almost everyone’s names. Some died before her time in the Vanguard, but she would still look at the wall and try to know their names. People need to remember them. That would be nearly impossible now. Three names were just added the day before, and she hasn’t even looked at those yet.

She doesn’t like looking at the especially young ones, the fresh-faced eighteen-and-nineteen-year-olds who had just joined the Vanguard to fight for what they believed was right. They reminded her of her younger brother, an outspoken young man who told her he was going to help beat the Union. He’s still alive, but many of the younger ones here are not. Some died on their first mission, some were at the wrong place at the wrong time, some clung to life, only to pass some hours later. She looks at their young faces in their photographs, them trying to look older and more respectable.

 _They’re barely older than children_ , she thinks. They didn’t deserve this. They shouldn’t have to be fighting in this war in the first place. With a sigh, she turns away from the wall and makes her way towards the hangar to find Jodie to discuss some new training regimens. She passes Chase’s plaque and doesn’t bother to look at it.

She feels that her breaking point is coming soon.

 

Death in the battlefield was always a possibility, she knew too well, but she still wasn’t prepared for it to nearly take her.

It was another “hold the line” mission. They had had some small victories in keeping the Union at bay over the past few months, so morale was higher than normal. The Union started moving towards the line again, however, and they needed to strike.

The Union did not come to play. This was one of their stronger assaults in recent history, with what seemed like an endless number of spider tanks, nanotech, and those giant…things roaming their perimeters. Every step she took and every corner she rounded felt like she was being bombarded by Union grunts.

This was going to be another loss, she knew. She spotted a few planes dog-fighting Union jets, and while they managed to take down some of them, the Union jets were clearly winning. One of the Vanguard’s jet was shot down somewhere over her. For a brief moment, she saw Chase’s plane fall through New York once again. This one fell into the ocean instead, and all she could hope was that the pilot was already dead.

She pushed forward, taking down an already battered spider tank with her missiles. Her strider wasn’t faring well, as it had been the brunt of more than a few bullets. There was a job she had to do, and she couldn’t stop now.

Something hit the back of her strider and she jolted forward. “Ugh, seriously?” she muttered as she prepared started to turn around. Something ricocheted off the glass windows in the front of her strider. Then more bullets started hammering it. “Shit, _no_ ,” she said, firing her guns at the soldiers in front of her. There was commotion behind her, so maybe the spider tank, or whatever the hell fired upon her from her behind had moved on.

Something blasted her strider from behind, and it started to teeter on its legs. “No, no, stop, stop, stop!” she yelled as she tried to regain control. The tech inside her strider was failing, and she watched helplessly as her strider fell forward, the glass window shattering along with the glass in her visor.

“Fuck, fuck,” she said as she desperately tried to yank off her helmet. The glass was cutting into her face – she could already feel the blood pooling on her neck and in her helmet. She didn’t even mean to scream when it came off, but the pain was nearly overwhelming. The bullets around her and the heavy footsteps meant that she was surrounded, and she was going to die.

As she held her bloody face, she tried to figure out what was going to happen. If she climbed out, she’d be shot and killed. If the Union surrounding her, maybe they’d capture her, but she’d rather die than be part of the Union. “This can’t be it, I have to get out,” she practically yelled as the panic set in more and more. In those moments, she thought of Chase. Did he try to escape? Was he calm? Did he accept that that was the end—

A loud commotion brought her out of her thoughts. Shouldn’t the Union have gotten to her by now? She heard gunshots and missiles firing before her comms crackled to life. “Augustus to Tempest.” _Holy shit, they did it?_ She wasn’t dead. They must have killed the soldiers and the spider tanks. “…Go for Tempest,” she breathed, the pain surrounding her jaw making it hard to talk. “It’s clear out here. Orders are to fall back. Go get on Jodie’s strider, planes are incoming.”

She scrambled to get out. She didn’t realize her leg hurt, too, but she managed to limp her way out and climb on top of Jodie’s strider. The bodies of the Union soldiers lay limp in the street as the not one, but two spider tanks coming to get her were destroyed.

As she holds onto the strider as it gets lifted into the plane, blood still coming out her wounds, she watches as another city falls.

 

She knows she’s being snippy with everyone, but she can’t really help it.

For a while, she thought things couldn’t get worse. It was already bad enough with Union territory expanding and Polity forces depleting. After her near brush with death and a scar to remind her of the experience, she had hoped once again that _maybe_ things would turn around. They didn’t.

She was being pushed to train more and more as the Vanguard lost more personnel. She had to learn new techniques with her strider as the other squads who specialized in those were wiped out. Recruits weren’t coming in fast enough to keep up with the demand. To top it all off, people still weren’t taking this seriously. Well, Jodie wasn’t.

“Jesus Christ, Jodie, I’ve said a million times – I don’t need you talking my ear off in the comms when we’re trying to train,” she says, exasperated. He had thrown her off during training and had caused her to mess up more than once.

“It’s _training_ , Miranda. We’ve done this a million times. You don’t need to be so den—”

“We have another mission coming up in two days! We need to be prepared! If we’re not prepared, we’ll get people kil—”

“It’s a fucking rescue mission, we’ve done these twice this past month—”

“Oh my God, can you two take it somewhere else?” Migas says as he pops out from one of the striders he’s working on. “We’re all trying to get these prepared for you guys, but we can’t focus when you’re yelling in each other’s faces. Again.”

Jodie huffs and walks off. _How mature_ , she thinks as she rolls her eyes and starts to walk away before hearing Leon say, “Miranda, a word, please?”

She sighs. This isn’t going to be good. She walks with him over to a corner where nobody else is, and he stands with his hands on his hips. “Are you okay?”

 _Not really._ “I’m fine,” she replies as she avoids meeting his eyes. She can feel his gaze on her, and she feels like she’s disappointing her dad.

“You sure? You and Jodie have been like this for a while now. I don’t want it to affect how we work on the field. I can talk to one of the counselors if you need—”

“It’s fine,” she tries to reassure him. “We’re all working beyond our limits here, Leon. Fights are bound to happen. I’ll make sure it doesn’t affect us on the field, I promise.” Before he can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away.

Right now, she needs a drink or maybe five.

 

**_2071._ **

Getting some sleep is something she should be doing, but she’s too distracted.

Scrolling through her notes, she’s trying to get through everything she can before tomorrow. Another “hold the line” mission that means the line is going to get pushed further back. There will be more casualties, more injuries, more speeches from Col. Marin about how they’ve done everything they can and how those did not die in vain. She’s heard it too many times.

They’re trying a few techniques in battle tomorrow that they hope will maybe give them some advantage. She’s not too sure, but she’s at least going to try. Practicing them has been going okay, but she doesn't feel comfortable with them yet. It doesn’t help that Jodie still makes joke and still manages to piss her off.

She yawns as she looks at the time. 12:38 AM. Not too late, but most everyone that isn’t still working is probably in bed by now, trying to get some rest before the mission tomorrow. If she goes to bed now, she feels that she won’t be ready. If nobody else is going to be ready, then she needs to be.

“Babe, come on, you need sleep,” she hears Chase say. “I’m fine, just ten more—” she says before she stops, sits up and looks around. Nobody else is there, as she finally managed to snag a single room a few months prior. She checks her phone to make sure no unknown recording magically started to play. Nothing, just hearing things. Completely normal.

With a sigh, she looks back at her notes. Her eyes are blurry and it’s difficult to read any of the text in front of her. This isn’t going to work. If she’s hearing things, if she’s hearing _Chase_ , she needs to sleep.

Reluctantly, she closes her notes and lays down.

 

The thing with Jodie didn’t mean to start as an actual thing.

Ever since New York, she hadn’t been with anyone else. At first, she felt like she was hurting Chase’s memory. She couldn’t even think about being with anyone after Chase died. Lately, she just didn’t have the time. The war was more important.

Something changed, though. She doesn’t even really know how it started. It was probably just a one-time thing, let off some steam, something they could forget about the next day. People at the Anvil did it all the time. It kept happening, and then it moved from sneaking out of each other’s rooms to getting breakfast together to training together.

Migas, of course, figures it out first. For a second, she thinks he might be mad. He just shrugs and tells her he figured it was going to happen at some point. She knows Leon knows, but she figures he won’t say anything unless it starts to seriously affect how they work as a team.

They still haven’t put a name to it. She still refers to Jodie as her partner, part of her squad, someone she works with. Saying the word “boyfriend” or even just that they’re dating makes her want to vomit. She tries not to think that it has anything to do with Chase.

He’s clearly affected by it. It was obvious he at least thought she was attractive when she was with Chase, but as much as he joked, she knew he would never consider doing anything and breaking Chase’s trust. Now that they’re…something and she won’t say exactly what it is, she suspects he’s frustrated.

“Miranda, we really should talk about this,” he blurts out one day while they’re eating lunch in a secluded area of the dining hall.

“Talk about what?” she plays dumb.

“You know. Whatever… _this_ is. We’ve been doing this for months now and we still haven’t talked about it.”

“Do we need to?” she asks. “Most people here don’t put labels on things anymore. We really need to focus on the war effort, Jodie.”

He looks down, and she feels a pang of sympathy. “Look, I just…need time. Okay?” she adds, trying to get him to look at her.

“Okay,” he says, and she feels a little better.

 

The Ether looks different, she thinks.

It’s been ages since she’s logged on, maybe even a year or two. At this point, she had more important things to spend her time with. It wasn’t until she got visibly frustrated during training again that Leon pulled her aside and told her to take a break.

“Maybe go on the Ether and relax. Or blow stuff up there, I don’t know. Just…take the rest of the day off.”

So, she put on the glasses and loaded it up. She wasn’t interested in joining a game, even though it looks like they added a ton of new ones since she came here. Instead, she made her way to one of the more popular bars that she used to go to.

Although the Ether looks different, the bar hasn’t changed much at all. It’s more of a relaxed, chill place rather than the clubs where things can tend to get a little crazy. Sure, she likes those, but right now all she wanted was something to drink. She makes her way towards the bar before she stops short and nearly bumps into someone.

Of course, Migas is sitting right at the bar. He’s in his civilian clothes, too: a red and black flannel, dark jeans, boots, and his hat. _Chase used to give him so much shit for that old thing_. The memory doesn’t pain her surprisingly, and she moves towards him.

“Hey, Migas,” she says quietly, which makes him jump. “Oh, hey Miranda – I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here.”

She scratches at the back of her neck while feeling awkward. She wasn’t exactly nice to him earlier in the day about something stupid, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he just blew her off.

“Yeah…sorry about snapping at you earlier. You were just trying to help, and you didn’t deserve that,” she adds as she forces herself to look him in the eye.

He looks surprised at first, but he smiles right after. “I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Thank you for apologizing, though. You can sit, too. I’m not just gonna make you stand there – I’m not that shitty of a person.”

She smiles, takes a seat beside him, and orders a vodka cranberry. It looks like he’s drinking a whiskey and coke, something him and Chase would get whenever they’d go off on their many bar adventures. _Some things never change_. He looks relaxed, which is almost a rarity considering how much he works. “So…how’s things going with your mechanic work?”

He shrugs. “S’alright. We’re keeping up as much as we can with repairs and new striders. The new printer has been moving a lot faster than the old one. Could use more breaks, but the colonel would probably kill me if she saw me just hanging around. You?”

The thought of the colonel giving Migas another mouthful makes her laugh. “It’s been alright. We’re still having some smaller issues with training but it’s nothing too bad,” she says as she takes a sip of her drink.

Migas nods and his face suddenly turns to something more serious. She’s about to ask if he’s okay when he speaks up. “Do you think the war’s gonna end soon, Miranda?” That’s not what she expected to come out of his mouth. She’s taken aback, and before she can even say anything, he continues, brows furrowed.

“It’s been so long. We’ve…you guys have been fighting so hard and it feels like we’re just scraping by. We’ve lost so many cities and people. Do you think we can win this?”

She swirls her straw around in her drink. These are the tough questions she doesn’t always want to think about. The reality is bleak, she knows, but she doesn’t want to dwell on it too long. He’s got a point though.

“I don’t know, Migas. I don’t know.”

 

**_2072._ **

There’s a necklace buried at the bottom of one of her drawers.

It’s silver with a light blue gem. At first, she thinks it’s a remnant of whoever lived here last, that they left it there by accident. She’s examining it closer when it hits her: Chase got her this. It was for their six-month anniversary.

She had bought him a new watch, since he had been complaining that his old one would stop working at random times. He surprised her with this necklace, the gem being her favorite color. She didn’t even want anything big – a dinner on leave would be nice, she told him.

“Once we can get out of here, I’m gonna take you to the nicest restaurant in Brooklyn. Then you can show off that necklace,” he told her. _The nicest? Really?_ “Yup,” he said, emphasizing the “p” sound. “I know my way around fine cuisine, baby. You’ll see.”

The memory is so vivid that it feels like it happened yesterday. She doesn’t even realize she’s clutching the necklace tightly until she looks down at her shaking hands. It’s been so, so long since she’s thought of Chase like that. She’s ashamed that she had forgotten that memory.

The tears start falling before she realizes. It’s been a while since she’s cried like this – since she’s cried this much for Chase. She tries to stop, but nothing seems to be working. _It’s been four years and I’m still like this_. In that moment, she remembers their last kiss, his last words, the plane, the explosion—

“Miranda? Migas wants to talk to all of us about repairs,” Leon says outside her door. She nearly jumps out of her skin at his voice but manages to calm down after a second. “Just give me a few minutes, I’ll meet you and Jodie in the hangar,” she replies and hears him walk away.

She looks into the mirror and sees that she looks like a mess. Red, puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, it’s reminiscent of that day four years ago. She shakes her head and wipes her eyes. Everything's fine.

She shoves the necklace back in the drawer and makes her way toward the bathroom.

 

She’s staring out the window in the dining hall when Jodie sits down across from her.

“Got some news for you,” he tells her with a smile. This is new. She half-expects him to pull out a coffee or show up with a teddy bear. Is it her birthday? She’s pretty sure it’s not her birthday.

“Well? Get on with it, I’m not guessing.”

“Alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he jokes, and she rolls her eyes, but he continues. “Heard from some people we’ve got some new recruits coming.”

“And? That’s not really news.”

He gives her a look, so she crosses her arms. “Yeah, but these guys are different. You know the ESU? I’ve heard they’re involved with these recruits. Has the Vanguard even worked with the ESU since we’ve been here?”

She has to admit, that is strange. The ESU from what she’s heard has been mostly operating on their own or working separately from the Polity but still with the Polity. They’ve had a lot of breakthroughs, like regeneration and working with the Ether. Why would they want to come to the Vanguard?

“You sure this is true? This isn’t the first time one of your ‘rumors’ has been wrong.”

“Well…no, I’m not sure, but my leads—”

“Ugh, it’s not that serious, Jodie—”

“My _leads_ think it’s true. They don’t know when they’ll be coming but they’re pretty sure they’ll show up within a few weeks.”

The implications of the ESU coming here has to mean something. They wouldn’t show up for absolutely no reason. Maybe they could be doing research, but they could easily just ask Col. Marin about the Anvil.

She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Jodie. It’s probably nothing. Now can you leave me be, please? I really just wanna drink my coffee in peace.”

He huffs and gets up. “You’ll see,” he adds as he walks away.

There’s no use getting her hopes up, she thinks, since she already knows the war isn’t going well.

 

Of course, the rescue mission goes bad.

They were just supposed to pick up some refugees, but of course the Union knew about it. They were only supposed to be there as back-up, but now they’re fighting so more people, more innocent people, won’t die.

She’s charging forward and getting blasted from a few different directions. Theres some spider tanks aiming right for her, but her strider takes the hits fairly well. The cams show that some of the refugees are making it on board, which is better than she expected. She can fight so these people can get away.

Another blast rocks her strider, taking down most of the internal communications. For a brief second, she thinks she needs to fall back. If she takes another hit or two, she could be done. The thought of the refugees pulls her out of that thinking. They’re safe, for now, but they won’t continue to be safe if she gives up. She thinks of that little girl all those years ago, the pain and the terror in her eyes as she moved away and basically gave them up to the Union. _This is for you._

She begins to push forward. This could be the end, but she doesn’t care. “Screw it, you only live once.”

“Let the good times roll, am I right?”

“What?” _Chase? What? No, I’m imagining things, I must have hit my head, something’s wrong—_

A giant blue mech descends from one of the planes and crushes a spider tank. _Those are Chase’s colors._ It rips the gun off, throws it at her feet, and shoots the tank until it’s done. Slowly, it turns and salutes her. _That’s Chase’s thing_.

For a moment, her and that…thing stare at each other. This can’t be happening. Maybe she died from one of the blasts and this is some weird hell, maybe she hit her head too hard and she’s hearing things. That can’t be Chase. He’s dead, he’s gone, she saw his plane fall and explode years ago. Something fires at the mech, and it turns away from her, and she’s left by herself.

The rest of the mission is a blur. Another giant yellow mech shows up, the refugees safely get on board, they fly back to the Anvil. She sits in silence in strider. When they land, she races to get out, Leon and Jodie on her trails as they make their way to the debriefing room.

 _Like hell the ESU is just observing_ , she thinks as she enters. Her, Jodie and Leon are demanding answers. What were those things? Who were in them? _Why did one sound like Chase?_

“…And take a deep breath, this is going to take some explaining,” Col. Marin says. Leon and Jodie move to take seats, and she turns to take the last seat.

She hears something, but the chatter, gasps and shocks overpower the nose. Something’s not right. This whole day, everything with the ESU, those mechs – it’s overwhelming not knowing what’s going on. She’s about to ask Jodie something, but the words die on her tongue when she hears it.

“Hey gang.”

Her head whips around, and he’s standing in front of her. Chase. He’s there, in the flesh, real.

_No._

“What did I miss?”

_No._

This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. She has to be seeing things, but everyone else is seeing him, this has to be some sort of collective delusion. This is a cruel prank. This isn’t _real_.

He’s looking at her and no one else. He’s looking at her like when she first met him, like when she first told him she loved him, like when she would dress up so they could go out, like how he looked at her nearly every day four years ago. She knows that look. That look that made her feel safe, loved, and like she was home. Like she was his everything.

His eyes are only on her, and she feels her world crumble beneath her.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first real fanfic in like eight years so uhhhhhh please be gentle. i really like miranda's character so i wanted to explore what happened while chase was gone, so this happened. originally meant it to be like 2500-3000 words but i got carried away.
> 
> also sorry about my overuse of italics and commas, that's just how it be sometimes. 
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr at raynavelbasejr by the way!


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